


Bend and Break

by yourobdtst



Series: bunnydoie69 is now live! [2]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Camboy Doyoung, Sex Toys, he's angry bunny for a minute here but don't worry all is well, i really dont know how this got so out of control i am Sorry, yeah doie fucks himself on cam for money and what about it?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-13 18:43:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19256983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourobdtst/pseuds/yourobdtst
Summary: He leans back, stretches out his long legs, shows off the outfit he picked out for all of them. Shows off everything they can’t have.





	Bend and Break

**Author's Note:**

> it has hardly! been! 24! hours! since i lost my mind and wrote the first part i am just. i'm just embarrassed
> 
> as always, i'm becca and thank you for reading :) this mini series of drabbles is for negi and it Will kill me

“I thought we all knew the _rules_.”

 

Doyoung keeps things flawless. He keeps his camera set up with the best angle he can get, keeps his lights bright enough to show off his body, dim enough to be alluring, keeps the pillows and sheets of his fluffy white filming bed clean and pristine between shows. He runs his streams at a strict schedule and holds himself to an upload minimum for his premium snapchat that he has never fallen below. He keeps records, organized, itemized, perfect, of every single subscriber, paying viewer, _customer_. Doyoung is in control - always.

 

When something goes wrong, Doyoung _knows_.

 

“The rules,” Doyoung pouts angrily at the camera, red recording light blazing like his own temper. “Are that you _cannot_ , under _any circumstance_ , share my content on platforms _other_ than my own forum, where only good, _paying_ customers can see.”

 

He has his hands bunched tightly in the hem of his baby blue hoodie, white knuckles hidden by the oversize of the sleeves. He loves this sweater. He loves to perform in this sweater, and it’s such a _pity_ that someone had to _ruin_ today and force him to be angry in it. He’s got a tiny pair of white sleep shorts on underneath. He doesn’t want to take them off. They don’t deserve it.

 

He can see the comments filtering in, apologies from the fingertips of those not responsible, paying - _literally paying_ \- for someone else’s mistake, just to appease him. They’re wrapped around his dainty fingers, wrapped around his pretty cock, but he won’t let them off so easy.

 

“So tell me _why_ ,” he seethes, “I found screenshots of myself uploaded onto some trashy porn twitter account. Hm? Tell me _why_.”

 

He knows why. He already found who did it. God bless his records, his lists, and his boyfriend, the genius software engineer, hacker extraordinaire, that he is. God bless that his boyfriend is ruthless when Doyoung feels wronged.

 

He leans back, stretches out his long legs, shows off the outfit he picked out for all of them, the ingrates. Shows off everything they can’t have.

 

“I don’t even want to get off today,” he sighs. “I don’t think you deserve to see me touch myself. This is what happens, hm? One of you acts up, thinks you can get away with breaking _my_ rules, and then everyone has to pay for it.

 

“It’s a shame, really,” he continues, petty, vindictive. “I was really craving coming untouched today. It feels so _good_ , you know?” Doyoung tilts his head back, bares his neck, spreads his legs a little wider. He hears the sound of a cash register, more of his viewers paying for someone else’s negligence.

 

“It feels so _good_ ,” he sighs. “To ride a nice, fat cock here on camera for you all, feel so full and get it _right there_ , right up against that spot, make a pretty mess all over myself for you.”

 

The cash register sound again. Oh, they _want_ it.

 

Well, Doyoung thinks, they want it, then they _pay_.

 

“And when you’re _good_ ,” he says pointedly, “I like to lick it up too. Don’t I? I like to lick my own come off my fingers before I go, because I want to please you.”

 

He hums, trails one sweater pawed hand up under the hoodie, pulls it up enough to expose a slight bit of his stomach, all soft, pretty skin, just up to his navel.

 

“I _love_ to please you. But you’ve been bad today.” Doyoung levels the camera with his stare, eyes wide like his feelings are hurt, like he could cry. No, _they’ll_ be the ones crying - if they can’t _fix this_ and make him happy again - when he leaves them all with blue balls tonight.

 

“Why were you so mean to me?” He whines, pouts, huffs cutely. “How could you do that to me? Show people who don’t deserve me my pictures?”

 

The cash register noise hasn’t stopped chiming, comments haven’t stopped rolling, apologizing, begging for forgiveness. He sneaks a look at the tip jar’s dollar count, pleased enough already, but he thinks he can push a little more before he gives in. He wants to teach them a lesson, but he really does want to get off tonight too.

 

He falls against the pillows with a dramatic sigh, trails his fingers up his inner thighs, drags his nails across the sensitive skin to leave red marks that they can all have their fantasies about.

 

“Make me happy again,” he demands, and the sound of the cash register starts firing off so quickly that one chime can’t even finish before the next one overtakes it.

 

He lays there in his perfect bed, with his perfect lighting, and his perfectly devoted followers, reminding them all to _behave_ with the sinful twist of his hips as his dollar count inches closer to a thousand, and he hasn’t even gotten his clothes off yet.

 

He grabs at the hem of his shorts, tugs and tightens it across his cock, the press of it dry and rough against the head as he starts to harden. He reaches his other hand down, cups at his balls through the fabric, gives them a light squeeze and lets out a delicate moan.

 

And he keeps it that way. Teasing touches, soft sounds, not a single scrap of clothing removed for them to see anything, not until they deserve it.

 

Or, that is until he gets himself a little too hard, a little _too_ needy. Sure, they broke his rules. But he’s nothing if not _flexible_.

 

“ _Fine_ ,” he concedes. “I’ll forgive you this time, but don’t forget.” He lifts himself onto his knees before the camera, shimmies his little shorts off his legs but keeps his hard cock hidden beneath his sweater, letting it press against the soft, worn inside, pressing a teasing bulge through the fabric. He spreads his knees and grinds forward a little, pressing his cock harder into his sweater and whining at the gentle friction is gives the head.

 

“Don’t forget that I can be mean too.” He warns, grabbing his lube from where he keeps it buried under his mountain of pillows. And he will be mean, won’t let them see a damn thing, forces them to have no choice but to be satisfied when he hikes up his sweater just at the back, shows off his bare thighs and the dip of his waist and the soft swell of his hips while keeping his pretty cock behind the fabric, and refuses to turn around to show them as he rubs lube slick fingers against his hole.

 

Camming as often as he does, taking videos for his snapchat as often as he does, and getting fucked by his boyfriend as often as he does leaves him _so_ easy to open up, he sinks in a single finger down to the knuckle with a soft whimper, eyebrows pinching, and it’s almost immediately not enough. He twists a second in alongside the first, flexes his thighs to bear down on the stretch, lets his mouth hang open just slightly on a wet gasp. He’s reaching behind himself to sink his fingers in, and the angle is bad, but he makes do, scissoring his delicate fingers inside himself, then pulling them out to add more lube and press three fingers inside, wet and delicious. He rides his own fingers until the burn of the stretch fades, the satisfaction of being full and ready warming his body and sending pleasure sliding up and down his spine, hot and heavy like molten glass.

 

His cheeks are warm and flushed, and he bites down on his bottom lip as he fucks his fingers in hard a couple of times, just to force some sweet, delicate moans up his throat, before pulling out his fingers to lean off camera for -

 

“Remember this?” His favourite dildo, his biggest, thick around and so long he sometimes can’t even take it all, coloured a pastel blue just like his sweater. Of _course_ they remember it, the comments and cash filtering in confirms it, because every time it makes an appearance he comes hard enough to leave himself a bleary, drooling mess of overstimulated, whiny little bunny before he can bid them all farewell and close the stream.

 

It’s more than they deserve, but he’s had a rough day. _He_ deserves this.

 

He hums, big eyes hooded as he holds it’s thick, heavy weight in his hands, jerks it off with this thin, lubed fingers, getting it nice and wet.

 

“Yeah, we all know about this one, don’t we?” His voice has dropped, a slow, teasing drawl, rough with arousal. He deems the toy wet enough, lifts up on his knees to position it behind himself, still keeping his cock covered where it’s begun to leak into his hoodie.

 

“I love this one,” he breathes, teasing at his stretched entrance with the tip of the toy. He leans back, sinks down just an inch or so, gasping lightly as his body stretches out to accommodate the intrusion. “God, I do, I _love_ this one.”

 

He slides down further, a deep, sated feeling settling in his gut at the feeling of being filled, pleasure coursing under his skin and curling his toes against the sheets. He rocks back, sinks down hard, then forward, pressing his cock into the now damp fabric of his hoodie, back and forth, again and again, caught between two sensations, both so _good_ , so good it burns. He keeps his eyes shut tight, bottom lip caught painfully hard between his teeth, whining loud and slutty for the camera. He twists his hips in a circle, searching, desperate, fucking back harder, harder, until -

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” he moans, high pitched and loud, keeping his hips tilted to that perfect angle as he starts to rut back, little bounces, tiny little bunny hops that grind the toy hard and deep inside him, rubbing right against where he wants it most.

 

“God, _oh_ , fuck, just right there, _please_ ,” he begs, uses the hand not steadying the toy to tighten his sweater over his cock, press it hard between the fabric and his stomach, a wet mess around the head and an obvious bulge for the viewers to see. “ _Please_ , oh fuck, oh _fuck_.”

 

He leans forward, bangs falling across his eyes, thighs flexing painfully as he rides the toy in small thrusts, the drag of it inside him slick and addicting. He can feel himself getting closer with every press to his prostate, precome leaking from his cock and dirtying his sweater, he’s so _messy_ , lube dripping from his hole down his fingers, saliva threatening to spill from the corner of his bitten lips. He’s so messy and it’s so _good_ , feels like a high, feels electric and tight in his gut, close, _so close_.

 

“I’m gonna come,” he whimpers to the camera. “Gonna come, _oh_ , I’m gonna -”

 

He yanks the hem of his sweater up to his mouth, gagging himself and soaking the fabric with saliva. His moans still filter through, muffled but still so loud as he works his ass on the toy and presses his open palm hard to the base of his cock, and it takes one pass, one drag of his hand up the length, catching on the crown to send him peaking, sobbing at the force of his orgasm. He clenches down on the toy inside him, still trying to ride it as his body trembles and jerks, trying to work as much out of himself as he can. His cock paints come up his abdomen, a streak across one thigh, dripping the rest onto his fingers and the backs of his knuckles.

 

He grips the head of his sensitive cock, twisting fast and hard a couple times, until he _really_ can’t take it anymore, dirtying his fingers with those last, final drops of come.

 

He curses, leaning back on his haunches, gasping, releasing the damp hem of his sweater as the motion shoves the toy further into his oversensitive body. He likes it though, that feeling of fullness even after he comes. He doesn’t want to lift himself off yet.

 

“I’m so nice,” he muses breathlessly to the camera, and the sound of the cash register notification starts pinging in agreement. “I was so upset, but I still did _all this_ for you.” He punctuates it by licking a streak of his own come off the back of his hand, letting it drip against his lips, messy and beautiful.

 

“You’ll be good to me, from now on, right?” The comment section floods with promises he can barely read through his hazy vision, fucked out and ready to fall asleep. “No more breaking my rules?”

 

He lets some more cash roll in before he decides he’s done, blowing the camera a come-slick kiss before hitting some buttons on his laptop and cutting the stream.

 

He huffs a sigh, feeling loose and sated, tips over and lets himself fall onto the bedsheets, hikes one leg up and slowly works the toy out of his ass. He’s down to just fall asleep here, feels so sleepy, but he knows it’s only a matter of time until -

 

A knock on the door. Kun actually opens it this time, leans against the doorframe, all dimply smiles and proud eyes.

 

Doyoung smiles up at him. “Good, baby?”

 

“So good,” Kun praises gently. He crosses the room, sidesteps all of Doyoung’s equipment to kneel at the edge of the bed and run soft fingers through his sweaty bangs. “You’re amazing, Doie, you know that.”

 

Doyoung hums, nuzzles into his touch. “You got it done?”

 

“Mhm. Blocked, shadowbanned, IP address blacklisted, anything and everything. I even tracked where he lives so if he tries to make a new account, I’ll know it’s him.” Kun leans in to kiss Doyoung’s forehead, the space between his brows that wrinkles when he’s worried. “Got that twitter account suspended for posting your photos, too.”

 

“My saviour,” Doyoung tilts his head up for a kiss, and Kun indulges him without hesitation, sweet and loving and tasting a little like red wine. “What would I do without you?”

 

Kun laughs, grabbing the laptop and spinning it to face Doyoung. “You’d be absolutely fine, baby. Look at the numbers you did tonight.”

 

Doyoung squints, still bleary from his orgasm, until he can make out -

 

“Oh, shit,” he giggles. “That’s the most I’ve ever made from one show.”

 

Kun laughs with him, laying kisses across his cheekbones, his nose, the corners of his mouth. “You’ve got so much power over them, angel,” he murmurs. “It kinda turns me on.”

 

Doyoung groans. “Give me, like, a half hour, and then I can do something about that.”

 

Kun just ruffles his hair, adoring look in his eyes. “Don’t be silly,” he mutters into Doyoung’s hair. “It’s bath time. Then sleep.”

 

" _No_ , no, no," Doyoung whines, rolling around a little. "I'm too sleepy for a bath, just a shower tonight."

 

"Alright," Kun agrees breazily, scratches at Doyoung scalp a little before starting to rise and set up the shower, fill it with all Doyoung's favourite soaps and gels, drops of lavender oil on the floor to make the steam smell like heaven.

 

"And!" Doyoung grabs at Kun's hand before he can walk away. " _And_ a round in the shower."

 

Kun barks a genuine laugh, turning his back on his come-covered, whiny mess of a boyfriend. "If you can walk to the bathroom yourself," he bargains on his way out the door, "and I don't have to come back and  _carry_ you,  _then_ I'll fuck you in the shower."

 

Doyoung hums, smile playing at his lips. Kun should know better by now than to underestimate him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm pandering to my own rare pair heart making kun the boyfriend. i just think kun is neat :(
> 
> come say hi and/or yell at me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/peek_a_kyungboo) or my brand new [cc](http://curiouscat.me/yourobdtst)
> 
> comments and kudos feed my praise kink ^^ i hope to see you all again soon!


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